All Fall Down
by JennMel
Summary: On the way back from their Nationals win in Chicago, New Directions' bus is run off the road. With night falling quickly, and the adults out of commission, things are coming apart at the seams too quickly to keep track. All Kurt knows is that he's terrified, but with the world in chaos, punctuated by his friends' screams, he can't afford to be. Klaine centric.
1. Part One

**Author Notes: Hey guys! Just a little something I did a while ago for blangstpromptoftheday on tumblr, and thought it was about time I posted on here as well! :)**

**WARNINGS: Description of blood, injury, and trauma**

**All Fall Down  
**

**Part One**

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

One beat, two, three, four-

"_Santana!"_

The world came rushing back in an overwhelming tidal wave of emotions and terror as Brittany's terrified scream wrought through Kurt's brain.

Why was he on his side? What, how…

Lights sparked and flickered, searing into Kurt's eyes, stabbing, disjointed, and far too bright in the dim half light of dusk.

He was lying down, sort of not really, on something?

No, on some_one_, who was in turn lying against the window and oh my god –_"Blaine! _Blaine, oh my god, Blaine honey wake up! Wake up! Blaine!"

The side of Blaine's head was cut open, free-flowing blood matting into his gelled hair and sticking with glass chips from the shattered window that now lay above them. His eyes were shut. Why were they shut? Why wasn't he _awake?_

Kurt's ears were ringing with remembered echoes of wrenching metal and screaming, so much screaming. His whole world was narrowed. Some part of him knew that he was surrounded by his friends, but tunnel vision had him only focussing on Blaine. _Be alive, be alive, be alive_-

Bubbling panic was ruthlessly quashed as Kurt ripped his cotton scarf from around his neck, righting himself to a crouch over Blaine so he was no longer lying on him. The world didn't tilt or spin anymore, so he supposed that must be a good thing…right? Gently, he took Blaine's chin in one hand, pressing the scarf harshly against the bleeding in an attempt to stem the flow.

A shudder, and suddenly Blaine's eyes were open, terrified and searching. Distantly, Kurt was surprised that Blaine's awakening didn't have him breaking down in tears of relief, but somehow this whole situation was beyond tears. Blaine was blinking rapidly, "W-what..?"

"Sshhh, don't move. The bus crashed, do you remember? We pitched off the side of the road in the middle of… I have no idea where actually. And you got knocked about a bit, but you're awake now, and we'll be okay, and oh my god, you remember who I am right just because you hear about amnesia and-"

Blaine caught Kurt's hand where it still pressed the scarf to his head, "You're babbling. I'm… I'm okay. I… I remember we were driving back from Chicago, and I think I remember crashing…" He blinked slowly, "Wait, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine." Kurt was quick to reassure, "We're all…" Kurt trailed off, unable to finish what he was going to say, because he didn't actually know.

As if that abrupt realisation physically shattered through the bubble Kurt had created around himself and Blaine, Kurt became keenly aware of the others, of screaming and yelling and how it had gotten even darker in the time it took him to wake Blaine.

Brittany wasn't screaming anymore. Rachel was. And Finn was yelling, but even with the noise, there was no way enough noise to account for everyone who had been on the bus.

First making sure Blaine was applying pressure to his wound, Kurt twisted, hoisting himself up to find a foothold on a crooked bar; the twisted remnants of the seat one behind them.

"Kurt?" Blaine prompted from below him, his voice a lost murmur in the chaos.

The truth of the situation died on Kurt's lips, a lie instead flowing easily, along with a reassuring smile, "It's bad, but could be worse..."

Blaine blinked again, staring up at Kurt, completely trusting, "That's good… So everyone's okay?"

"Kurt! Kurt, man, you and Blaine okay?" It was Puck, his voice clearly cutting over the cacophony of screams and wails as he clambered towards Kurt in the middle of the bus. Puck had been sitting at the back with Quinn, Sam, Mercedes and Joe.

"Yeah, yeah we're good! Blaine was knocked out, I think he's hit his head pretty hard, but he's awake. You?" Kurt shouted back.

Puck nodded as he climbed the last few feet, glancing down at Blaine with concern, "Hey man, you doin' okay?"

Blaine blinked heavily, before giving Puck a grimacing smile, "I think someone t-tried to hammer a nail into my head, but I'm f-fine."

"Good." Puck nodded with more authority than his eyes reflected, but only Kurt seemed to notice, "Blaine, you think you can sit tight for a sec? I need to borrow Kurt."

Blaine smiled fuzzily, "Sure, go."

Kurt was about to protest, but the veiled fear in Puck's eyes made him swallow his words. He nodded sharply, dropping back down to Blaine's eye level, "Try not to move too much, okay? You might have broken something. And don't fall back to sleep, you've probably got a concussion, and you know they always say on tv that you shouldn't fall asleep. I'll be right back. Just keep pressure on that while I'm gone, okay? I love you."

"Love you too." Blaine murmured, smiling softly when Kurt kissed him swiftly with as much love and desperation as the moment would allow.

As soon as Kurt climbed back up to Puck's level, the other boy asked, "You got any signal?"

Quickly checking, Kurt shook his head, "None. But I can do this." He flicked through his phone, activating the flashlight app, "My battery won't last long with this, but at least we've got a bit of light.

Now their immediate area was illuminated, Kurt could see the full extent of the damage, could see all the twisted metal and jagged edges. Could see his own phone light bleed into Quinn's, and into Tina's. Could see…

Oh god. Well, that explained the screams.

He lurched forwards, not having any real plan, but needing to try to help. Puck caught his arm, "I need your help checking the others at the front."

"But-" Blood, screaming, and surely Kurt should have noticed this before? Why was the world moving so slow? Didn't it know what was happening?

Puck roughly grabbed Kurt's shoulders, shaking him into looking him in the eyes, "Dude. I need you on this. I can't keep this together by myself. Mike and Tina are dealing with Finn and Rachel, and god knows how, but Santana's helping Quinn keep Britt from freaking. I can't wake the others up. I _need you on this._"

Kurt swallowed, shoving his rising panic to one side, "Check the front. Right."

Screams bled into yells, bled into screams, bled into shouts, and it was almost impossible to focus on what was going on behind, in front, or even next to him as Kurt picked his way towards the front of the bus. Until Artie's yelling became discernible with the movement of his lips, illuminated in Kurt's phone light. He was looking to the side, unable to move but trying to get Sugar's attention, who was in turn trying to get Miss Pillsbury's. Rory's unmoving body lay at a horrible angle in the stairwell of the bus, a drip drip drip of red painting his face with the blood of the driver suspended above him by the seatbelt.

The dead driver.

Forcing back the intense urge to vomit, Kurt dropped down next to Sugar as Puck swiftly checked on an uninjured Artie before moving down to Rory.

"Get a grip! You're an adult! Wake up! Wake up and _help us!_ Do something, _please do something!"_ Sugar was screaming in Miss Pillsbury's face, shaking her shoulders, making her head move like a bobble-headed doll. But their guidance counsellor's eyes, while open, remained unseeing. Her arms were simply wrapped around her knees, just…staring. "_Wake up damn you!"_

Kurt forcefully grabbed Sugar's wrists, pulling her away from the catatonic woman, "Sugar! Stop, Sugar!"

And then the girl dissolved into tears, a delayed shock reaction as she collapsed into Kurt's arms. He patted her awkwardly, not really knowing how to react as he sent a desperate silent plea to Artie over the girl's shoulder.

"Ow… bloody hell that hurts…" A pained Irish accent cut through Sugar's sobs, and she was out of Kurt's arms in an instant.

Puck moved out of the way, climbing back up back to Artie and Kurt. Artie had been very secure during the crash thanks to the safety measures in built for his wheelchair, and so was much more alert than any of the others who had been sitting at the front. Kurt cast his phone around, shining light over the seats and pointedly ignoring the corpse of the driver, "Where's Mr Schue?" They just needed one adult. One adult who was conscious and could help them and it would all be okay. Help would come, no one would die, and they would all be home to show their school they were winners.

One adult, and they would be okay…

Artie grimly gestured to the smashed windscreen, "I think he was thrown…"

Puck and Kurt both followed Artie's gesture with their eyes, squinting to see the glittering glass shards decorating the grass outside rapidly swallowed by a deep blackness of night. Kurt nodded, "Okay, we'll go look-"

Puck grabbed his arm, his expression grim and doubtful, but any discussion was cut off when Quinn's sharp voice yelled out to them. "Artie you good with these two?"

Artie's mouth was set in a thin line, and it was clear he wished he could be of more help to whatever was happening at the back, "I'm good. Not like I'm going anywhere."

The pair made their way carefully back to the middle of the bus, where the metal was contorted and caved. Puck headed immediately to Finn and Rachel as Quinn gestured, but Kurt dropped back down next to Blaine. His boyfriend was still awake, his face cast pale in the light from Kurt's phone, eyes unfocussed on a middle distance. He had sat himself up, leaning his back against the floor and his feet on the window ledge. "Hey." Kurt grasped Blaine's shoulder tightly, and watched as the other boy grimaced and refocused on him.

"Hey. How is everyone? Has Mr Schue called for help yet?"

"Good. They're good. And we're having trouble getting signal but Mr Schue's trying-" More lies tumbled too-easily from Kurt's mouth, but this time Blaine seemed more aware.

"Don't lie, Kurt. Tell me." Blaine's eyes were clear, if very pained, and most definitely determined.

And Kurt couldn't lie twice. He couldn't ignore his step brother's leg, or Rachel's screams for help. He couldn't lie about Mr Schue, or Miss Pillsbury, or their complete lack of signal. And he definitely couldn't erase the image of the metal bar protruding from Santana's abdomen. "We're in trouble, Blaine."

**All Fall Down 2/3**

It was cold. Of that Blaine was keenly aware.

It was also loud. Really, really loud. People just kept screaming, and yelling, and crying, and making so much noise and it was horrible. Kurt was gone again. He and the other boys – including Sam and Joe, who had both woken groggily a little while ago – were going to try and attempt to free Rachel, who was trapped in a twisted metal cage of seats.

Maybe then she would stop screaming.

Please stop screaming.

Blaine shifted, and immediately regretted it. A horrible pain lanced up his side, stealing his breath and making his head throb. Every time he moved the pain got worse. He had very briefly considered telling Kurt, but quickly decided against it. There was no point. Blaine was intimately familiar with what broken ribs felt like; he knew why his side felt like it was on fire, and there was nothing Kurt or anyone else would be able to do.

Besides, Santana was in much more danger than he was. She'd been impaled for christ's sake. Blaine just had a few painful ribs, and he'd gotten over that before. No point worrying Kurt or causing panic when there was already plenty to go around.

The sharp stabbing pain in his side flared up again, more forceful than before, summoning stars to dance across his vision.

Nothing to worry about. Been there, done that. He was fine.

He was fine.

"_I swear to god hobbit if you don't shut the hell up I will pull myself off this pole and __**make you!**_" Santana's choked scream, laced with a dire amount of pain, cut sharply through the noise.

Rachel's begging sobs died down as a leaden silence saturated the air. A girl was murmuring something Blaine's couldn't hear in a gentle, soothing tone. Maybe Quinn, or Brittany.

"Hey! We're all hurt and scared, Santana!" Finn's voice now.

"Yeah? Well when you've got a big hunk of metal decorating _your_ insides, cream puff, get back to me." Santana bit back, "Last I checked, Little Miss Self-Centred over there was in pretty good shape!"

"Stop it! All of you!" Quinn snapped.

Why were they all still screaming? Blaine was dimly aware of his hands shaking, and he tried to focus on that instead, but his breaths were getting sharper, shorter, harder as he became overwhelmed by the pain that threaded through his nerves.

He blinked, and blinked again, and why was Kurt pulling his hands from his ears? When had he even covered his ears? When had Kurt got here? "Hey. You okay?"

Blaine allowed himself a moment to get lost in the soothing depths of his boyfriend's gaze, before nodding shakily, offering a wan smile, "Yeah. It's just a bit… loud…"

Kurt nodded, frowning slightly as he gently laid the back of his hand on Blaine's forehead, "Are you feeling okay? Other than the head I mean. You just looked really pale."

"I'm as okay as I can be in a situation like this." It wasn't a lie. Not technically, "How are you? And Santana… is she?"

"I'm fine. Santana's still awake and bitching in between keeping Brittany calm, so I guess that's something…" Kurt trailed off, biting his lip.

Blaine might be in pain, but he knew that look, "What is it?"

"Sam thinks we should try and make it up to the road. Try and get signal, or maybe flag someone down who could help."

"It's dark. And cold. Kurt, that's dangerous-" Blaine tried to sit himself up more, and instantly regretted it, only just managing to bite back a yelp of pain.

"Hey, hey, hey – I _told_ you not to move. Your head isn't exactly steady on your shoulders right now Blaine." Once he was sure Blaine had settled back down, Kurt ploughed on, "I know it could be dangerous, I know it might not work, but Blaine… we don't know where we are, it's the middle of the night and only going to get colder, and Mr Schue… Let _alone_ Santana… She needs help now that can't wait till morning when someone driving by even has a hope in hell of seeing the bus from the road."

"Kurt…" _Don't go, don't leave me, please please don't leave me alone here,_ "Be careful."

"I'm going with Puck and Sam. We'll be fine. We'll get help." Kurt's voice was so confident, so perfect, and Blaine couldn't help but believe him.

"Okay…" He hated how pathetic his voice sounded, "I love you…"

"Kurt! Come on!" Puck yelled. "Don't forget your phone!"

Kurt took Blaine's face in his hands, "I love you too. I'll be right back, okay?" He placed a gently kiss on Blaine's uninjured temple, and then in a blink he had gone, taking all the warmth, love, and hope with him.

Blaine shivered violently, which only brought back the agony in his side. His chest contracted, his throat tight as he suddenly struggled to catch breath, violent coughs wracking his body in a desperate search for oxygen.

Only, the coughs made his side hurt more, a horrible coppery taste poisoning his tongue. Drawing back his hand, his stomach plummeted as his pain was momentarily wiped aside in a petrified shock of adrenaline. Blood. He was coughing up blood now.

That was probably not a good thing.

No, Blaine was pretty sure that was definitely not a good thing.

He blinked slowly, head throbbing as he tried to form coherent trains of thought, but failed.

Why was he so cold? Why wasn't Kurt here?

The world drifted and time merged as Blaine just struggled to keep himself from drowning entirely in the pain. It was nice, really. It kept him from focussing on the sounds of his friends crying and shouting at each other. This was better, the quiet…

Better to just drift, even if the shocks of coughs and pain every so often kept him from sleeping.

Just drift, ignore the noise, ignore the pain, forget the fear, forget the cold. Wait for Kurt…

Kurt would be back soon. He promised. And besides, it wasn't really that cold, not after a while…

Wait for Kurt…

"There's another one down here!" A thud, and Blaine jolted, blinking in confusion against the sudden light searing his retinas.

Time skewed around Blaine on a violent axis, and for the first time in a long while he allowed his senses to recognise noise. More voices, less screaming, and-

"Hey kid, you with me here? Can you tell me your name? Do you know where you are?"

The man crouched in front of him had much warmer clothes than Blaine did. Bright, too. And then he was closer to Blaine's face, ducking his head to try and connect their eyes, "Can you hear me? Are you in any pain?"

"W-" Blaine had tried to persuade his tongue to ask where Kurt was, but as soon as he tried to do something more than drag air into his lungs, his whole chest contracted, and he was coughing violently again. This time soothing hands supported him, kind words trying to calm him.

"It's okay. Just focus on your breathing for me there, okay? That's good. Now, you've been in a bit of an accident, okay? But we're getting you and your friends out of here. I know it hurts, but if you can, I need you to tell me where the pain is worst."

Blaine's vision skipped, but he forced himself to focus, "M-my side and my head. I k-keep c-coughing blood-d. W-where's K-kurt?"

The man smiled encouragingly, but Blaine knew that look. He'd seen it before, when EMTs had arrived at the bloody scene of his beating. "That's good. Can you tell me your name?"

"B-blaine. W-where's Kurt?" Blaine repeated. Why wasn't Kurt here? He said he'd come right back.

"Hi Blaine, my name's Phil. Is Kurt your friend? Was he on the bus?"

"Went to g-get help…" Blaine mumbled, his eyes drooping. Talking was hard, and he was exhausted.

The man nodded, "Then he's fine, just outside, so let's worry about you okay? A couple of my colleagues are going to come and help me. We're going to load you onto a board to get you out, and you'll be airlifted to hospital. Are you on any medications I need to know about?" Blaine blinked dully, shaking his head, "Any allergies?" Another shake.

Blaine frowned, his head throbbing, "W-where's Kurt?"

The man replied swiftly, "Kurt's outside, he's fine. Blaine, I need you to focus for me, okay? I'd really appreciate it if you could stay awake."

"M'kay…" A beat, more coughing followed by that nasty copper taste, "Where's Kurt?"

The man didn't answer him. Why didn't he answer him? Why was he talking to all those people?

Where was Kurt? Kurt said he would come back, come _right back_.

Where was Kurt? Why wasn't he here?

The edges of Blaine's vision greyed, and distantly he recognised that he was very, very scared.

The man in front of him moved his lips, but no sound came out. He did it again. Blaine didn't know why he was doing that. Maybe he knew Blaine didn't like the noise.

He blinked, blinked again, and every time his eyes just got heavier. His whole body was heavy. Every cell felt like it was filled with lead. Molten lead if his ribs were anything to go by.

At least he wasn't cold anymore. That was nice.

And it was quiet.

That was nice too.

Hands grasped his heavy limbs, and the world faded in, faded out, blurring.

Still no Kurt.

And then his body lurched, darkness turning to blinding white hot pain, and then black again.

**TBC**


	2. Part Two

**Part Two  
**

It was cold. Of that Blaine was keenly aware.

It was also loud. Really, really loud. People just kept screaming, and yelling, and crying, and making so much noise and it was horrible. Kurt was gone again. He and the other boys – including Sam and Joe, who had both woken groggily a little while ago – were going to try and attempt to free Rachel, who was trapped in a twisted metal cage of seats.

Maybe then she would stop screaming.

Please stop screaming.

Blaine shifted, and immediately regretted it. A horrible pain lanced up his side, stealing his breath and making his head throb. Every time he moved the pain got worse. He had very briefly considered telling Kurt, but quickly decided against it. There was no point. Blaine was intimately familiar with what broken ribs felt like; he knew why his side felt like it was on fire, and there was nothing Kurt or anyone else would be able to do.

Besides, Santana was in much more danger than he was. She'd been impaled for christ's sake. Blaine just had a few painful ribs, and he'd gotten over that before. No point worrying Kurt or causing panic when there was already plenty to go around.

The sharp stabbing pain in his side flared up again, more forceful than before, summoning stars to dance across his vision.

Nothing to worry about. Been there, done that. He was fine.

He was fine.

"_I swear to god hobbit if you don't shut the hell up I will pull myself off this pole and __**make you!**_" Santana's choked scream, laced with a dire amount of pain, cut sharply through the noise.

Rachel's begging sobs died down as a leaden silence saturated the air. A girl was murmuring something Blaine's couldn't hear in a gentle, soothing tone. Maybe Quinn, or Brittany.

"Hey! We're all hurt and scared, Santana!" Finn's voice now.

"Yeah? Well when you've got a big hunk of metal decorating _your_ insides, cream puff, get back to me." Santana bit back, "Last I checked, Little Miss Self-Centred over there was in pretty good shape!"

"Stop it! All of you!" Quinn snapped.

Why were they all still screaming? Blaine was dimly aware of his hands shaking, and he tried to focus on that instead, but his breaths were getting sharper, shorter, harder as he became overwhelmed by the pain that threaded through his nerves.

He blinked, and blinked again, and why was Kurt pulling his hands from his ears? When had he even covered his ears? When had Kurt got here? "Hey. You okay?"

Blaine allowed himself a moment to get lost in the soothing depths of his boyfriend's gaze, before nodding shakily, offering a wan smile, "Yeah. It's just a bit… loud…"

Kurt nodded, frowning slightly as he gently laid the back of his hand on Blaine's forehead, "Are you feeling okay? Other than the head I mean. You just looked really pale."

"I'm as okay as I can be in a situation like this." It wasn't a lie. Not technically, "How are you? And Santana… is she?"

"I'm fine. Santana's still awake and bitching in between keeping Brittany calm, so I guess that's something…" Kurt trailed off, biting his lip.

Blaine might be in pain, but he knew that look, "What is it?"

"Sam thinks we should try and make it up to the road. Try and get signal, or maybe flag someone down who could help."

"It's dark. And cold. Kurt, that's dangerous-" Blaine tried to sit himself up more, and instantly regretted it, only just managing to bite back a yelp of pain.

"Hey, hey, hey – I _told_ you not to move. Your head isn't exactly steady on your shoulders right now Blaine." Once he was sure Blaine had settled back down, Kurt ploughed on, "I know it could be dangerous, I know it might not work, but Blaine… we don't know where we are, it's the middle of the night and only going to get colder, and Mr Schue… Let _alone_ Santana… She needs help now that can't wait till morning when someone driving by even has a hope in hell of seeing the bus from the road."

"Kurt…" _Don't go, don't leave me, please please don't leave me alone here,_ "Be careful."

"I'm going with Puck and Sam. We'll be fine. We'll get help." Kurt's voice was so confident, so perfect, and Blaine couldn't help but believe him.

"Okay…" He hated how pathetic his voice sounded, "I love you…"

"Kurt! Come on!" Puck yelled. "Don't forget your phone!"

Kurt took Blaine's face in his hands, "I love you too. I'll be right back, okay?" He placed a gently kiss on Blaine's uninjured temple, and then in a blink he had gone, taking all the warmth, love, and hope with him.

Blaine shivered violently, which only brought back the agony in his side. His chest contracted, his throat tight as he suddenly struggled to catch breath, violent coughs wracking his body in a desperate search for oxygen.

Only, the coughs made his side hurt more, a horrible coppery taste poisoning his tongue. Drawing back his hand, his stomach plummeted as his pain was momentarily wiped aside in a petrified shock of adrenaline. Blood. He was coughing up blood now.

That was probably not a good thing.

No, Blaine was pretty sure that was definitely not a good thing.

He blinked slowly, head throbbing as he tried to form coherent trains of thought, but failed.

Why was he so cold? Why wasn't Kurt here?

The world drifted and time merged as Blaine just struggled to keep himself from drowning entirely in the pain. It was nice, really. It kept him from focussing on the sounds of his friends crying and shouting at each other. This was better, the quiet…

Better to just drift, even if the shocks of coughs and pain every so often kept him from sleeping.

Just drift, ignore the noise, ignore the pain, forget the fear, forget the cold. Wait for Kurt…

Kurt would be back soon. He promised. And besides, it wasn't really that cold, not after a while…

Wait for Kurt…

"There's another one down here!" A thud, and Blaine jolted, blinking in confusion against the sudden light searing his retinas.

Time skewed around Blaine on a violent axis, and for the first time in a long while he allowed his senses to recognise noise. More voices, less screaming, and-

"Hey kid, you with me here? Can you tell me your name? Do you know where you are?"

The man crouched in front of him had much warmer clothes than Blaine did. Bright, too. And then he was closer to Blaine's face, ducking his head to try and connect their eyes, "Can you hear me? Are you in any pain?"

"W-" Blaine had tried to persuade his tongue to ask where Kurt was, but as soon as he tried to do something more than drag air into his lungs, his whole chest contracted, and he was coughing violently again. This time soothing hands supported him, kind words trying to calm him.

"It's okay. Just focus on your breathing for me there, okay? That's good. Now, you've been in a bit of an accident, okay? But we're getting you and your friends out of here. I know it hurts, but if you can, I need you to tell me where the pain is worst."

Blaine's vision skipped, but he forced himself to focus, "M-my side and my head. I k-keep c-coughing blood-d. W-where's K-kurt?"

The man smiled encouragingly, but Blaine knew that look. He'd seen it before, when EMTs had arrived at the bloody scene of his beating. "That's good. Can you tell me your name?"

"B-blaine. W-where's Kurt?" Blaine repeated. Why wasn't Kurt here? He said he'd come right back.

"Hi Blaine, my name's Phil. Is Kurt your friend? Was he on the bus?"

"Went to g-get help…" Blaine mumbled, his eyes drooping. Talking was hard, and he was exhausted.

The man nodded, "Then he's fine, just outside, so let's worry about you okay? A couple of my colleagues are going to come and help me. We're going to load you onto a board to get you out, and you'll be airlifted to hospital. Are you on any medications I need to know about?" Blaine blinked dully, shaking his head, "Any allergies?" Another shake.

Blaine frowned, his head throbbing, "W-where's Kurt?"

The man replied swiftly, "Kurt's outside, he's fine. Blaine, I need you to focus for me, okay? I'd really appreciate it if you could stay awake."

"M'kay…" A beat, more coughing followed by that nasty copper taste, "Where's Kurt?"

The man didn't answer him. Why didn't he answer him? Why was he talking to all those people?

Where was Kurt? Kurt said he would come back, come _right back_.

Where was Kurt? Why wasn't he here?

The edges of Blaine's vision greyed, and distantly he recognised that he was very, very scared.

The man in front of him moved his lips, but no sound came out. He did it again. Blaine didn't know why he was doing that. Maybe he knew Blaine didn't like the noise.

He blinked, blinked again, and every time his eyes just got heavier. His whole body was heavy. Every cell felt like it was filled with lead. Molten lead if his ribs were anything to go by.

At least he wasn't cold anymore. That was nice.

And it was quiet.

That was nice too.

Hands grasped his heavy limbs, and the world faded in, faded out, blurring.

Still no Kurt.

And then his body lurched, darkness turning to blinding white hot pain, and then black again.

**TBC**


	3. Part Three

**Part Three  
**

Snapshots. That's all everything was. No more movie reels, no more moving pictures, just one still frame after another.

Three blinks and take another. Remember it, process it, and then let it fall from your fingers.

A splash of light, overexposed against the silhouettes of vehicles.

The face of a friend, as blank as your own.

Film gives scope for sound, for a backing track to your life juxtaposed against the screech of tyres and the thumping of blades as they cut rhythmically through the air.

And sometimes, sound is just too much.

So count the pictures. Count the people. Wait, watch, process, move on.

See Puck's whole body just slump in a relief that could not be described, as help finally, _finally _arrived.

Admire Quinn's golden hair, illuminated blue and red in the lights, the picture beautiful in its simplicity, in its strength. It couldn't capture her shaking hands.

Count Tina, her arm held precious against her chest, count Mike, his hands bloody shreds but still supporting his girlfriend.

Recognise Sugar, recognise Rory.

Count each picture, process, watch.

Just keep watching.

"Okay honey, time to go."

Sure hands grasped Kurt's blanketed shoulders, helping him to stand up from where he sat.

Pictures came faster now, some discarded immediately, some awash with sound as they blurred together.

Kurt blinked.

"Come on, sweetheart, that's it…"

"No… wait…" His words felt weak, lost, as if they had been stuck on his tongue for three beats too long.

Blaine. Why hadn't he seen Blaine? Where was Blaine? Blaine should be here, Kurt… Kurt had promised. He had promised to go back, once he found help.

He had promised.

Blaine. Where was Blaine?

"No… No. I don't want to go, you don't understand…"

"It's fine, sweetheart, we'll get you and your friends to the hospital, that's where we're going now. Just to this ambulance here, okay? Come on, that's it."

"No!" Kurt's limbs snapped with a sudden electricity, a burst of something he had lost in the pictures and the still frames. He moved against the guidance, desperate with a single driving force, "No, Blaine, I need Blaine. I promised, you don't get it, I promised! Blaine…"

The guiding hands moved to his shoulders, tried to still his struggles, "Those people will find your friend, but right now I need to get you and some of the others away from this site, okay honey? I know this is a lot, but you're in shock. You've been through a lot, sweetheart, and-"

The world rushed through Kurt's senses in vibrant technicolor and surround-sound, the pictures finally all joining, glued together by one single-minded promise and the thought of the most important person in the universe right now. "My name isn't honey, or sweetheart, or darling, or _whatever!_ My name is Kurt and I am not moving one step until you tell me where my boyfriend is!"

The woman loosened her grip on him, her eyes placating, "Okay Kurt, I'm sorry. Why don't you give me a description of your boyfriend, and I'll find out? We really need to get you to a hospital to get properly checked out. I'll stay here and find… Blaine, was it? I promise."

"You don't _understand…_" Kurt begged, pleaded, because she really didn't. How could she? He promised, he promised Blaine, he _needed_ Blaine. He needed to see Blaine was okay, and needed him to tell Kurt that everything would be fine. He needed to hold Blaine's hand and hear that he loved him, just so he could reply in kind. He needed to _breathe_-

"No, no please! Let me go with her! You have to let me go _with her!_" The desperate screams somehow made themselves heard over the rhythm of the blades from the air ambulance, as a man tried to pull a violently struggling Brittany away from an unconscious Santana. "_No! _Let _go of me! Santana!"_

They had freed Santana, but had left part of the pole in. Kurt could see it, sticking out, wrong.

He swayed.

"Someone give me a hand here!" The man holding Brittany back was yelling, pulling her out of the way as a second stretcher was loaded.

Mr Schue. They had found Mr Schue.

The doors were slid shut, and Brittany fell limp with the knowledge that she couldn't get to Santana. The man pulled her back, and still Kurt just watched.

Still no Blaine.

More shouts, more fading, and as the hypnotising rhythm of the helicopter's blades began to fade, another off beat rhythm took its place.

The woman with Kurt looked up and frowned, yelling at two of her colleagues as they ran past, "Chris! What's going on?"

"They found another kid when they went back in to cut the other girl out, hidden between some seats! Chicago Pres. sent their chopper for us! Just do your job and get that lot of kids out of here, Sanderson!"

Between seats. Another kid. Another, as if they hadn't known.

Noise, chaos, and Kurt knew. Kurt ran.

"Hey! Stop!"

_Black, red, green._

Black hair, red blood, green scarf.

"_Blaine!"_

Four men carried him on a stretcher carefully but swiftly up the bank, lying flat, lying pale, lying still, _wrong wrong wrong._

Someone caught Kurt around the middle, halting his momentum mid-stride and rattling his brain in his skull as he jerked.

"Wait! Please, wait! Blaine!"

Everything was moving too fast, too much, too soon.

"Please! I have to go with him! I promised! _Please!" _Kurt didn't even know who he was pleading with at this point. He was just terrified that if they loaded Blaine into that thing, he would never see him again. They would take him away, to the same place as Santana, to the same place as Mr Schue, to the place where they take people who are silent and pale, who are too, too still…

"Move that kid back, we need to take off!" One man yelled brusquely, jumping up first to help the others load Blaine.

"No, please! Don't take him away from me! Blaine!"

"We don't have time for this!"

"Wait – Kurt?" One of the men cut over the other forcefully.

Kurt was so stunned he stopped struggling, and the person holding him managed to drag him away a little more, "Yes?"

"Get in."

"Phil, what are you _doing?_ We don't need a hysterical kid on board!"

"Exactly! And trust me, _that_ kid will be hysterical if he wakes up in the air and he doesn't see this one. So unless you want to sedate him midair without knowing the full extent of his injuries..?" The man let the question hang.

And that was all it took for Kurt to hold Blaine's hand again.

And when he couldn't hold Blaine's hand anymore, when they took him away and sat Kurt down to wait for someone who never came, he held onto the scarf. The green scarf, covered in darkened blood. He stared at it, letting time fall away as he faded into the background of the busy hospital, surrounded by people but completely alone.

Somewhere, somewhere he knew Blaine was here. And Santana. And Mr Schue.

The others weren't. They others had been taken somewhere else. Where he should have been taken, because he was okay. He hadn't been hurt. Somehow, for a reason Kurt just couldn't understand, he was fine. Not a cut, not a scratch, not a hole in his stomach-

Why was that?

He twisted the scarf between his fingers, watching dawn bleed to morning bleed to bright afternoon.

Too much bleeding.

"Hey. Hey, how long have you been sitting here?" A kind voice, crouching to his level.

A hand to his face, soft, too soft, not like Blaine's.

Kurt just stared up at the woman, clad in fresh scrubs that spoke of the start of a shift. He blinked, twisting the scarf, "I… Blaine…" His voice sounded alien to his own ears, disjointed and wrong.

The woman frowned, "Is that blood? Where did you come from?"

And then there were people, a lot of people, and they tried to take the scarf, but Kurt wouldn't let them. He didn't understand. He was fine, no cut, no holes. Blaine wasn't. Why didn't they help _him?_

After that…

Even the pictures were blurred.

* * *

Blaine was pretty sure that if his hair could feel pain, it would hurt. Everything cell in his body ached with the horrible dulled throb of painkillers that weren't quite strong enough.

"Blaine? Hey, can you hear me kid?"

"K'rt…"

"Oh no you don't. Don't try to move. I've buzzed the nurse's station."

Blaine floated for a moment, allowing the concept of being awake to settle, before summoning the strength to open his eyes.

The lights were low, and it might have been night, but Blaine was too busy being confused to work it out. "Mr H'mml?"

"Hey kid. How're you feeling?"

Blaine just blinked dumbly up at the man, before he cast his gaze around the room a bit more.

He blinked again.

Mr Hummel wasn't just sitting next to Blaine's bed – he was sitting _in between_ two beds.

Kurt.

Kurt was there.

Why was Kurt in a hospital bed?

His panic must have shown, because Burt was rubbing a soothing hand on his shoulder, "Kurt's fine, just sleeping at the moment, and due to be released tomorrow." Blaine tried to sit up, his brain focussed on Kurt, but his muscles wouldn't co-operate. Burt was quick to calm him, "Blaine. Kurt is fine. He… well, it was just a lot for all of you to deal with, and he was alone for quite a while after they took you to surgery. It's just been… a lot. I had them move you two in together when you got out of ICU, and your doctors agreed it would be good for the both of you. I got Cooper to okay it over the phone. He should be here soon, actually – his flight was due in a half hour ago."

Blaine blinked, his energy already far too spent to try and ask more questions. He needed Kurt, not just for Kurt to be here, but for Kurt to be awake. For Kurt to tell him himself that he was fine.

Blaine let the warmth of Burt's presence and words wash through him, accepting the motions of the doctor's questions and examinations.

At some point the drugs must have pulled him back under, because when Blaine opened his eyes again, sunlight was filtering into the room and Kurt…

Kurt was awake, his clear, beautiful eyes gazing at Blaine.

A light snore joined the ambience of the hospital, and Kurt smiled softly, his eyes skipping to a man slumped awkwardly in the chair on the other side of Blaine's bed. "I think Cooper's a bit jetlagged. Dad said he was on the first fight out, as soon as they found out where we were."

Blaine blinked slowly, confusion shining in his eyes. Kurt swung out of his bed, padding the few short steps to Blaine's bed before perching gingerly on the side, mindful of Blaine's injuries. Kurt reached up, gently stroking Blaine's cheek with his thumb, "I love you so much…" His voice was wet, choked.

Blaine wished he had the energy to take Kurt's hand, but he still managed to croak, "I love you too."

"We're all okay." Kurt said it with a solid confidence, as if by saying it out loud finally made it real. "We're all going to be fine…"

"We are." Blaine agreed, stumbling over those two simple words as his mind was filled with images of metal and blood, laced with a remembered terror.

"Dad's outside calling Carole. She's with Finn and the others, the ones who weren't as bad and could be ambulanced to a closer hospital. But they had to airlift us, and Santana and Mr Schue, so we're back in Chicago. It was the closest hospital with a helipad, Dad said. It's why it took them so long to find out everything. No one knew who we were. Until someone finally contacted the other hospital."

Blaine frowned, "You said you weren't hurt…"

Kurt's slender frame shook with a shuddered breath, tears collecting in his eyes but not falling, hand cupping Blaine's face, "I wouldn't let you go without me." His voice shook, what little composure he was trying to maintain for Blaine's sake rapidly disappearing.

Blaine's throat felt tight, and it was hard to swallow. Sluggishly, he persuaded his arm to move in a way that wouldn't pull on his ribs, and laced his fingers in Kurt's where they lay against his face, "We're all okay. I'm okay, you're okay. We're all okay."

Kurt nodded, leaning to press a tender kiss to Blaine's chapped lips, keeping their hands entwined.

Just breathe…

Breathe…

"I didn't… I d-didn't want to l-leave you alone. I promised… When I saw you, I thought-" Kurt's words started tumbling, tears, tears that had been beyond him because everything had just been _too much_, finally flowed.

And Blaine was crying too. Crying because they were together, because they were _going to be okay, _"I'm here, Kurt." His words were soft, nearly lost in the choked air that surrounded them.

Just breathe.

**END**

**Thank you for reading! :) xxx  
**


End file.
